


hands that pulled me from the earth.

by crankgameplays



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Canon Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, SOFT for them, abojt how ash hates touching - until it comes to eiji, and how he ignores it for eini, ash’s touch avoidance, but don’t matter, description of panic attack, idk what episode? who knows w/ me, im obsessed with that trope honestly, nothin to descriptive or awful but still be care, other characters are mentioned vaguely, ser somewhere in canon universe just, somewhat of a look back on ash’s awful past, this is only the first fic that i will produce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:07:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26334598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crankgameplays/pseuds/crankgameplays
Summary: ash doesn't remember ever wanting to be touched—he only ever remembers shying away from it, using it as a weapon, having it given to him no matter how much he pleads for it to be taken away.and then he meets eiji. he meets eiji and he wants. he wants, he wants, he wants.
Relationships: Ash Lynx & Okumura Eiji, Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 7
Kudos: 264





	hands that pulled me from the earth.

**Author's Note:**

> god OKAY thank you so much to my dear friend @ olbos ( https://archiveofourown.org/users/olbos ) for beta’ing this hellish fic for me. now to get into tw just in case you didn’t read the tags. there are brief mentions and one very brief very vague description of ash’s past sexual trauma, and there is a slightly in depth description of a panic attack. so pls be careful or do not read at all. now! without further ado, here are my boys exhibiting my favorite trope.

ash doesn’t remember what it feels like to be touched kindly. he doesn’t remember what it feels like to be touched and to not automatically panic, to not feel ants crawling every inch of his body, to not feel staticky numbness immediately cover every inch of his skin in an automatic defense mechanism. he doesn't remember ever _wanting_ to be touched—he only ever remembers shying away from it, using it as a weapon, having it given to him no matter how much he pleads for it to be taken away. 

and then he meets eiji. he meets eiji and he wants. he wants, he wants, he _wants_.

he sees eiji’s hands, small but strong and sturdy and calloused and rough, shaking slightly as he holds ash’s gun, wrong and incredibly endearing—and he wants. 

he sees eiji’s soft smile as he leans into ibe’s side and pulls out his camera, slender fingers gently fiddling with the controls until he has it just right. it’s then that ash wonders if eiji has ever touched anything harshly in his life, suddenly wanting to know if he would touch him just as delicately as he touches everything else. 

the thought itself doesn’t scare ash. he doesn't _get_ scared; wary and nervous, sure, but he hasn’t experienced genuine fear since the day he was eight and holding a smoking gun that looked too big in his tiny, tiny hands. but, god, does it unnerve him to his very core. allowing himself to want for anything isn’t an option anymore. he doesn't yearn for death, but he doesn’t want for a future either. he doesn't crave for a warm bed to sleep in, or for a hot meal to eat that night, simply because he cannot want for _anything_ when his life is built on an unstable routine. a routine so unbalanced that it towers higher than any and all figures on the earth, piled up with different possibilities that ash is sure are bound to topple and fall over at any moment. so, he doesn’t want, and he doesn’t wish, and he doesn’t pray. but he can’t stop himself when it comes to eiji, it seems. 

it seems he has new weak spot. 

he doesn’t even notice at first, not really. the first time eiji touches him, he doesn’t take note of a single thing (which is far too dangerous, his mind tells him), not until shorter stares at them, open mouthed and wide eyed, to which ash turns around to see the movement of eiji pulling his hand away from ash’s shoulder. he hadn’t felt the touch, feather light as it was, and his normal defense mechanisms hadn’t popped up to warn him. despite everything, ash freezes all the same and waits. 

and he waits. 

and he _waits_. 

and he finds that the numbness never comes.

eventually, he forces himself to shake it off as an accident, something that someone as touch heavy as eiji did without thought, as he would do to anyone else. in ash’s mind, it wasn’t important. 

but it was, because it kept happening. it keeps happening, and happening, and ash still doesn’t know how to feel about it. the touches never linger, and they are never harsh—they are all always just barely there, the ghostly press of fingertips to his spine, to his bicep, to his shoulder and his hair and his stomach. they appear in groups of one, and each time the numbness never comes. the static stays pushed down, deep in his bones where it waits to spring when he needs to wrap it around himself like a cloak. and it feels. _he_ feels; all of it so vividly, so tender to his very being.

but that’s all he ever does, he only ever feels. that’s all there is to it. it feels, and it’s human, and ash wants for it so bad, more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life to the point where his chest just fucking _aches_ for it. 

he doesn't know how long they go on like that, with eiji looking and touching and smiling and pretending none of it ever happens, before it breaks. 

because everything in his life breaks. it’s the only way he knows how to live. 

he doesn’t really remember how it happens. everything is fine—everything is supposed to be fine when eiji’s around. he’s a machine made for murdering and coolness in the face of danger and the blood on his hands is thick and heavy, and he is built to protect eiji. that’s what he finds himself doing right now, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets as he stands slightly in front of him. he doesn’t know the gang in front of him—cain had brought them in, insisting they were willing to help him take down dino once and for all. ash, reluctantly, trusts cain, so he agrees to meet. and it, well, it doesn’t go well. 

“no,” ash states for what feels like the millionth time. this guy doesn’t take no for an answer, apparently. “eiji stays by my side. _always_.” the guy groans frustratedly, his hand coming up to tug harshly at his dark black hair. ash hates dark colors unless they belong to eiji, he thinks to himself. 

“i’m just saying, it would be better if—”

“i don’t _care_!” ash’s composure finally snaps like a guitar string tuned too tightly, his hands flying out to his sides. he hears the shift of guns, but it barely phases him. “i do not give a _fuck_ what you’re saying! eiji is with me, or there’s no fucking deal.”

“look, kid,” the guy finally loses his temper and stalks so close, until he’s as close to ash as he can be without anyone aiming a gun at him, “you’re being unreasonable right now.” his hand comes to touch ash’s shoulder, and it’s then that ash’s entire body short circuits, going white hot and stock still before the terrifyingly familiar staticky numbness covers him. 

“don’t touch me,” he growls out softly, and he is not lashing out because there’s at least fifteen guns trained on him, and he’s not ready to die if dino doesn’t go down with him. 

“what?” the guy looks confused, eyes flickering between his hand and ash’s face, and then it clicks. he laughs as if the thought itself is nothing but a joke.

_cold, cruel laughter as the fat mans pulls his shirt back on and ignores ash’s crying—_

“what, the lynx of new york is scared of a little touch? get a grip, kid.” the hand tightens on his shoulder as if to prove a point. 

the nickname distorts in his mind, spit on the lips of a man much older, much stronger than him, and ash’s mind freezes, blanks out in sheer panic and terror and survival instinct, because he can’t fucking _move_. the hand won’t let him go, it’s too hard and it hurts, everything hurts, and his chest kind of aches, _why can’t he breathe properly_? someone is screaming, who’s screaming?

“ _ash!_ ” 

oh, _he’s_ screaming. ash feels the solid cold metal of his gun against his all too shaky and sweaty hands, sees the guy on the ground who clutches his bleeding leg, and it’s then that he finally discerns his own screaming of, “don’t touch me, dont ever lay your filthy fucking hands on me again!”

he doesn’t know when he shot a bullet, doesn’t remember when he lost control of his own body, doesn’t know why he can’t fucking breathe, but all he knows is that he’s screaming louder than he has in a very long time.

“ash, it’s okay,” a soft voice speaks behind him, but ash’s brain is too muddled, too watery to recognize it. he doesn’t recognize himself right now, and that numb static is still clinging to his body, and he doesn’t recognize the light touch at the small of his back. instinct is what has him spinning around with his gun already cocked and pointed at someone’s forehead. “i said don’t fucking _touch me!”_ he screams, chest heaving with breaths that won’t come quick enough, and then there’s a soft noise from below him. 

when he looks down, it’s painful. it’s painful how quickly he snaps back in control of himself when he sees the barrel of a gun pressed to eiji’s forehead, when he realizes he is the one holding that gun. he startles backward so quick that he falls on his legs, his gun clamoring loudly to the floor in the silence that has fallen in the room. 

“oh,” he says, quietly, and there is a tense lump in his throat that makes it hard to talk. “oh, god, eiji, i—” he doesn’t know what to say—how could he? _how could he?!_ he feels like he’s gonna be sick. shoving himself up on unsteady legs, barely caring that he’s made a fool of himself in front of a random gang along with cain and shorter and bones and alex, he recognizes that he is so beyond disgusted with himself to the point where the nausea roiling in his stomach quickly becomes a real threat. “eiji… i—” he falters again. the words won’t come, why can’t he fucking talk? 

eiji opens his mouth to say something, but ash, ash who has not felt fear in ten long years, is suddenly and painfully _terrified_. he is scared, so scared, and he feels like a kid again, not knowing what to do. and he is a coward, so he turns.

and he runs. 

he runs, and runs, and runs, until his legs no longer support him and he drops like a sack of bricks, his chin smacking against the ground. his hands are shaking and he doesn’t know how to get them to stop. he hides himself in an alleyway, and he knows if he was found at this point then he would be dead. he doesn’t even have a gun, but he couldn’t point it with his shaky hands anyways. he swallows back the bile that clogs his throat, and it hurts, it hurts like theres an invisible hand pressing against it and choking, and choking, and he wants it to stop, god, he wants it to stop so bad. 

he doesn’t cry. it aches and it burns and hurts and he can’t cry, he doesn’t know how to at this point. he can’t breathe and his limbs have become so numb due to it. his lingering intelligence roughly screams in the back of his mind, ‘ _panic attack, panic attack, panic attack_.’ 

he had leveled his gun at eiji, pressed that cold barrel to his forehead with hands that are so covered in the blood of people that have died because of him, that have killed because of him, that he has killed himself. 

in the end, he can’t help but accept that this is the pain he deserves. 

there are loud footsteps at the entrance to the alleyway which immediately turn ash’s defenses on despite the fact he can’t feel his fingers. his feet are already trying to push him to stand.

he is so, so tired. 

“ash, oh thank the gods,” eijis voice is breathless and his face is red with exertion, and ash presses back against the cold brick wall like a frightened animal. 

_eiji_ , he wants to say, _go away._ but his throat is stubborn and refuses to do anything but make a garbled noise in the back of it. 

“oh, ash,” eiji’s steps toward him are slow and sure, no hesitance laced at all as he approaches ash, approaches the devil himself. 

“it is okay, ash,” he says quietly, his hands clasped gently behind his back, as if he thinks even the sight of them will scare ash away. 

he is kind, and patient, and beautiful, and ash does not deserve him. 

“eiji,” his voice is harsh and breathless and painful, but he gets the words out anyways. “go,” is all he can imagine. he mumbles as he struggles to suck in another breath. 

“how many times do i have to tell you?” eiji asks as he sits down gently in front of ash, legs crossed beneath him. he’s close enough to touch, and ash wants. “i will not.” 

“i’ll hurt you,” he wheezes out. 

“no, my sweet ash. you are only hurting yourself,” his smile is kind and forgiving, accepting an apology ash has not been able to give, and that’s all it takes for ash to break. 

eiji will always break him. 

“oh, eiji,” he sobs, words coming out in harsh gasps of air and disgust towards himself souring them. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, eiji. i’m sorry,” the bile is back, and ash chokes it down on another ugly gasp of breath as he curls into himself. 

“i have already forgiven you, ash,” eiji pulls his hands forward, and ash presses even further away from him. he doesnt want to hurt eiji. 

“don’t,” he whimpers, pathetic, and, god, if dino could see him now. 

_is this what he looked like when all those men first touched him_? 

“i’ll hurt you, eiji. i’ll scare you— _you were scared._ i’m sorry.”

“i wasn’t scared of you, ash,” eiji’s hands twitch, but he willingly drops them to his lap. “i was scared _for_ you.” 

his words only makes breathing far harder to do, and the tears that hit the back of his throat are salty and bitter when he sucks in a painful breath that stabs his lungs. 

“ash, please,” eiji’s hands are rising again. “can i touch you? please, ash.” his voice is so desperate and sad that ash can’t do anything but nod helplessly. eiji gently reaches out and places his hand on ash’s heart, feels the wild flutter of it beneath his fingers, and then carefully grabs ash’s hand and places it on his own chest. he makes sure ash is looking at him the whole time. 

the static disappears. 

eiji's touch against his chest is firm but gentle. not pushing, just a reminder that he’s here, that he’s not leaving ash alone to deal with this. 

“breathe for me, aslan, slowly. gently, there you go, that’s it.” 

eiji talks him through the panic attack with soft, gentle words and even softer hands, their hearts beating against each other’s hands, their connection solid and firm for the first time since they’ve met. 

after it’s over, after his once clouded thoughts have cleared and filtered out, ash is so tired he falls. his head thumps onto eiji’s chest with all the grace of the wounded animal he is. his hand tightens in eiji’s shirt, and for the first time in his long life, he doesn’t want the touching end. 

“i’m sorry, eiji, i’m so sorry, oh god,” he can’t help but repeat it, over and over again, his voice raw and painful. eiji’s arms gently rub his back. 

“ash, my sweet ash, it is okay.”

“it’s _not_.” ash lifts his head to glare at eiji. “i pointed a gun at you, eiji, how is that okay?” 

“and i never once thought that you would shoot it,” eiji says softly, his forehead slowly pressing against ash’s, his hands coming up to gently cup his face. that sets ash off again, and he can’t stop the warm tears that flow down his cheeks. “it is okay, ash. i trust you.” 

ash doesn’t remember ever being touched this kindly, not until right now. not until this moment, with eiji’s touch so gentle and warm and kind, his deep brown eyes staring at his with such open adoration that it makes ash’s heart clench painfully within his chest. he wants to fight. he wants to rip away from eiji and remind him how awful he is, how quick he is to kill, how much a monster he truly has become. 

but he is so, so tired. 

“don’t let go,” he chokes out instead, begs, pathetic and quiet and more of a whimper than a request. ash is falling apart, breaking into thousands of pieces, and the only thing keeping him together is eiji’s warm, strong hands touching him. 

“not until you want me to,” eiji promises, and his arms wrap back around ash as the blond buries his head in eiji’s shoulder and clings. 

_we’ll be here forever, then,_ ash thinks, and the thought finally, carefully, settles the toppling tower.

**Author's Note:**

> wow that was a doozy! as always kudos and comments are extremely appreciate, constructive criticism is to be taken with a grain of salt, and thank you very much for reading!! come cry about bfish w/ me and my beta!! 
> 
> my twitter: @codenameaslan  
> my beta’s twitter: @kaqeki


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